Chancroid
by Mumsey Jr
Summary: According to two-thirds of the Golden Trio, Lord Voldemort has a very interesting life behind closed doors. Or where Harry and Hermione get drunk and mock Voldemort.


Chancroid

 _Heroes are the only legal assassins in the world; after all, they're backed by the press._

As the currently estranged Golden Trio will tell you, there is only so much that someone could take before they either turn to ways to help them manage stress.

 _Because you always need someone gullible and easily manipulated to do your dirty work for you._

Often feelings can come out in various ways; such as violence, sarcasm, or even insanity when their mind breaks.

 _Even when it happens to someone like Lockhart it is not a pretty sight._

Thankfully though, since the Trio were not hopelessly clinging to the frayed strands of their sanity… _yet_ , they could happily say that their coping mechanism was simple.

 _Because it is always the simple things that work the best._

It was jokes…that's right…well more like _puns,_ but still; _Jokes_.

 _Because there is only so much one could take before they start to crack._

"Lord V, of Lord Master of thee Lord V has risen again!"

 _Through the blood and tears of others you shall fall._

The line was accompanied by heavy breathing and the sloshing of alcohol.

 _Even heroes want to forget the world sometimes._

"No, no I can do better…My Lord must check thyself for irregularities in thy body…"

 _And muggle S.T.D's._

So, it had come to this.

 _A very sad attempt at humor during a tragic event._

Harry Potter and Hermione Granger lying splayed across the sticky, peeling linoleum floor of the tent.

 _Whether that stickiness was from the glue or the lingering smell of cats they would rather not know._

Each downing a quarter of the ravaged bottle of spiked butter beer, and thinking up puns on Voldemort's name in butchered Shakespearian while their hair snaked around them like a single, living thing.

 _*Shakespeare was probably rolling in his grave, but then again churches often make it hard for the dead to move at all._

When you didn't take into account the insane self-mutilating, deformed, ego-maniac trying to kill then; it was a rather nice evening.

 _Running from the law can take a lot out of you._

In fact what would make this even nicer would be if they could think up a code name for Voldemort.

 _Something that the twins didn't already think up._

They had to think up a name that did not disguise the fact that they were openly mocking him, but was also tasteful _…well_ tasteful in the muggle sense.

 _Maybe if they called him whatever they came up with to his face, he might spontaneously combust._

After all, if wizarding world was behind on a laundry list of laws and common _standards_ ; _how would they react to a sex joke?_

 _But then again have you ever seen Victorian porn?_

It was an interesting notion to think about.

 _They might even faint._

"My Lord must have several cases of this if he is becoming so spotty."

 _Use condoms kids._

"Thy lord cannot be taken down by a common muggle condition, he just can't!"

 _Harry would make a wonderful female impersonator with that voice impression._

"I know I shouldn't have hired those street walkers for my Lord's birthday, I told Goyle that they looked diseased, I just knew it."

 _And likewise to Hermione; how can she get her voice that deep?_

"The only thing that would make this worse is if my Lord impregnated that horrible woman!"

 _And on a side note, also use birth control._

"Lord has V.D., which he didn't get from me,"

 _Truthfully, you would have to get me really drunk to just touch the bastard._

Now tiny fairies lay untangling the moving mass of hair trying to get their brethren whom have tried to untangle the mass, before getting lost in the slapdash thinly disguised insult called a song.

 _I heard when you're starving; fairy bones make an excellent meal._

"My Lord has V.D. which he most certainly did not get from me,"

 _No wonder he hates muggle, they mock him without even trying._

"Oh potions cannot cure the disease in thee,"

 _Only muggle medicine, which is out of both your understanding and reach._

"It was the mudblood my Lord,"

 _Because you always blame the damn muggle-born._

"Or the glamoured hag that you took to your bed,"

 _I think that was Lucius' great aunt._

"My Lord has most certainly not gotten it from me,"

 _Only the other nine hundred people you screwed over._

"The balance is upset with your existence,"

 _The force is not with you Luk-um, Voldemort._

"And so you shall grow spotty,"

 _Kind of like Dragon pox on steroids._

"Because my lord has a case of full blown V.D."

 _Maybe it's only contagious for murderous assholes._

And this is where we shall leave our hero's.

 _Dumbledore's little precious porcelain dolls._

On the floor, in the middle of the woods, only protected by a bubble of magic from whatever lurked outside.

 _Merlin, it sounds like the makings of a bad horror movie._

And we shall leave you with the final thought.

 _Of my Lord of the V.D., truly the ultimate cesspool of an existence on this earth._

 _Only the pure of-oh great even the prophets are perverts._

Finished: 11:26 p.m. 2/1/16

Corrected: 6:25 p.m. 2/2/16

* William Shakespeare was buried inside the Holy Trinity Church in Stratford-upon-Avon, England.


End file.
